Walking to the Rhythm

The music of a crowd’s footsteps are too subtle to miss whilst one is standing in the midst of its flow. So much so that if you close your eyes you might even feel yourself standing at the shore of a rippling river in your mental world.

Such is the monotony that is life in a city!

How peculiar to find every foot matching the rhythm of the other – almost involuntarily but then on participating consciously – to hold the beat. How hard it becomes then to accustom oneself to the same sound when one is born of another melody. Yet, everyday the performance of life carries on with different people walking on its ramp – tap! tap!.

As I pushed through another wave of a crowd today I believe an excitement awaited me. I ventured through the glam and fashion of the faceless crowd to find a tiny pair of feet discording to the sound around itself. With the small and feeble tap! of his feet the little conductor walked to his own chime stopping only to catch hold of his older self. As much hard as it became for the by walker to allow the creative feet a space of freedom, it became equally harsh for the creator to save his uniqueness in the oppressive shadow of the former. And there I stood watching them struggle to keep up to the over arching tune.

Neither did those tiny feet give in to the world,

Nor did the older ones give up on their precision,

I stood there as a silent audience,

Neither observing their striking chimes, nor watching their failed refrains

But silently enjoying the balance of their harmony!


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